


Interruptions

by milkyy



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Voyeurism, clear being a cutie, noiz being a creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:24:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkyy/pseuds/milkyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kouajku and Aoba have some very strange eavesdroppers throughout the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interruptions

Aoba got a message on his Coil late into his shift. It was from Koujaku.

“Hey, come back to my place after work, okay? I’ll be waiting patiently~”

It was a simple text message and to anyone else it would have looked friendly enough. But now that Aoba was dating Koujaku, he could see past all that flowery bullshit…he knew a booty call when he saw one. He frowned with a slight flush, sending back the most sarcastic response he could muster up.

Of course, he and Ren headed straight to Koujaku’s apartment after work…and sure enough, this booty call included dinner, a movie, and lots of heavy petting throughout the movie. They stopped the film halfway through to relocate to the bedroom.

Now, underneath Aoba, Koujaku was breathing hard. A hand reached up to Aoba’s bare shoulder to tug him closer; lips pressed against his nose, then his cheek…but Aoba could only hold such a position for so long and sat straight up once more, sinking even more of Koujaku’s length into his snug canal.

“Ah, nngh, Koujaku!” Koujaku’s thighs and abdomen tensed below him for a moment, followed by a gulp. Then, Aoba felt the man’s cock quiver and swell inside of him, pushing even closer against his tender walls. He was making Koujaku feel good. Which made him feel good… and sexy… and so aroused. He began to rock down against him, faster, harder, rising and falling over every inch of Koujaku, from root to tip.

“Ahn. Mnnh.”

With his eyes closed, Aoba could focus even better on the sensations, on hard edge of the headboard digging into his palms, the satin sheets that brushed his tender skin, those powerful jolts of pleasure that vibrated through his body like sound waves. He whimpered, arching his back erotically as he rolled his hips down over Koujaku's cock, mouth hanging open slack, breathing growing staggered. A pair of hands, warm, ran up the balmy plane of his sweat-soaked chest to squeeze and twist his nipples.

“Aoba, I love you,” Koujaku’s voice grunted as his hips snapped hard against Aoba’s ass. The younger spasmed at the sound, eyes squeezing shut. “Mnnh, fuck, I love you, Aoba.” He continued to play with his nipples, giving each their turn. Meanwhile, one hand drifted down the ridges of Aoba’s ribcage to cup his hip, using it to anchor him as he began ram faster, harder, and Aoba was having a hard time keeping up with the pace, thighs beginning to shudder.

“Ah, annh! S-Slow down!” He was ignored. “Mhn, ah!”

There was a tapping sound. It was a light, relentless sound coming from the row of windows above the headboard. Hazily, Aoba cracked an eye open.

“Mmhn, Aoba, what’s wrong?” Koujaku wondered in a low hum, stopping to rub his thumbs in soothing circles on his hips.

“I heard something,” Aoba said and he slowed.  He bit his lower lip anxiously because it would be mortifying if Koujaku’s neighbors—an elderly couple—were complaining because they could hear them having sex.

The knock was repeated followed by a muffled voice. “Master!”

Huh?

“Master! Master! Don’t worry I’ll get you out of there!”

Huh? Out of where?

Then that voice dawned on Aoba and he understood exactly who it was and what they were doing. He stopped moving entirely, eyes narrowing as he peered out into the darkness. With effort, he could make out the familiar lines of a faceless figure that matched the voice: hunched back, cropped hair, three cylinders that replaced his mouth…

Aoba yelled loud enough to hopefully be heard across the glass, “Do not come in here!”

Koujaku—still holding tight on Aoba’s stilled hips—stared up at him, his brow furrowing, confused. He murmured a low, concerned, “Aoba? What is going o—”

There was some more determined rattling at the window pane.  “Don’t worry I’m coming to save you!”

“Aoba?” Koujaku tried to lift Aoba off of him, but the hasty movement made the younger inhale a sharp gasp of pain and overstimulation as Koujaku’s engorged length was pulled free from Aoba’s tensed hole. Koujaku winced and gently set Aoba back onto his lap, eyes straining to roll back to investigate the window above him.

“Clear, listen to me!” Aoba pleaded, reaching his hands out to lean against the glass. “Please do not come in—” Clear must have taken this for desperation because he nodded at Aoba with conviction and hurriedly returned to his attention to the lock. “Dammit Clear!”

“What the hell? It’s that weirdo?” Koujaku questioned, beginning to sit up—but Aoba had him pinned at the waist so he plopped back down to the futon, immobilized. In a moment, the window clicked and the glass pane was easily slid open, despite Aoba’s attempts to slam it back shut.

With that the world entered, a cool, evening breeze swishing in against his feverish skin and suddenly Aoba was face to face—or rather, face to gas mask—with the intruder. “Master!” Clear breathed, gloved hands reaching out to touch Aoba’s face. “Master you’re here! I heard your voice and I hurried here!”

Aoba frowned. “You heard my…voice?”

“Yes! It was very loud!” Aoba blushed furiously at this. “But…” The young man tilted his head to the side and wondered aloud, “Master, what are you doing looking out the window while you’re…” Clear hesitated and fiddled his fingers. “Naked?”

Then, Aoba’s attention rushed back to the inside of the room. Koujaku grunted peevishly underneath him, his flushed skin prickling at the night air…he was still on top of his boyfriend, naked, in the middle of…well  _things_.

Aoba, anger now stealing through him, stiffened, eyes narrowed, voice scathing. “What are you doing here,” he said, “breaking in at this hour? Actually it doesn’t matter what hour it is! Why are you breaking into someone else’s house?”

“I-I heard your voice, Master,” the young man repeated, though his enthusiasm had slightly waned. “I thought you were being hurt so I came to protect you.”

Startled, Aoba demanded, “W-Why are you listening to me?”

“I always can hear you so that I’ll be able to protect you!”

Aoba sighed. This was hopeless. “Well, your services aren’t needed right now,” he said, now finally beginning to feel that searing blush working its way underneath his skin.

“Are you sure Master?” Clear asked. He brought his head forward to peek in the room. Aoba’s hand swiftly connected with the metal surface of the gas mask and he shoved him out.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“Please go,” Koujaku grumbled from below. “Please.”

“Ah, but Master! Why aren’t you at your house? And why are you sitting on Koujaku-san like that? And making all that noise. Its almost as if you guys are…” A thought occured. Aoba didn’t have to see Clear’s face to know the guy was blushing.

“Oh…oh… I understand!” He sputtered. He suddenly scrambled a few feet away from the window. “Oh goodness, I’m sorry Master! I’ll leave you be! I’m sorry!” He babbled, bowing clumsily a few times, all while trying to back away as quickly as possible—while escaping, he tripped over his own shoes, landing flat on his ass. He fumbled over another ten apologies, eventually picking himself up to hop over the balcony and dash away into the darkness.

Aoba blinked at the scene unfolding in front of him, unsure of whether that tightness in his stomach was laughter or shame.  He got off Koujaku gingerly, releasing a long sigh. There was only so much humiliation he could take in one night, and he figured that he had taken about month’s share. They laid in bed for a while, wordless. Aoba stared at the ceiling, pondering what other things Clear had heard them doing in the past few weeks.

“Tomorrow I’ll get a lock for that window,” Koujaku suddenly said. He had moved to the opposite side of the futon, turned away from Aoba, nursing his own wounded dignity.

“Good idea,” Aoba affirmed. He leaned over, facing the man. “By the way, this is your fault.”

Koujaku, for the first time in awhile, twisted around. “Huh? How’s this my fault? He’s  _your_  weirdo friend.”

“Well…if it wasn’t for you,” Aoba said, pursing his lips, eyes diverted, “I wouldn’t have been using my voice so loudly…and it wouldn’t have made so much noise. So its your fault, you insatiable hippo!”

Koujaku pretended to be angry, brows drawn, mouth wide with feigned offence—in a moment, he  scooped Aoba into his arms, the younger jerking and hollering embarrassed protests, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Well, this insatiable hippo hasn’t quite gotten his fill yet.” He nibbled playfully at Aoba’s ear, earning a loud squeak. “You know how I hate to be rudely interrupted when I’m in the middle of important matters.”

“Koujaku! Stop being so embarrassing!” Aoba said. He didn’t mean to start giggling.

His boyfriend was kissing him all over his face, hands roaming, and suddenly Aoba was aware of little things like the handsome scent of Koujaku’s cologne, the purring laughter that followed every kiss, and the forgotten arousal that had been coiled up in his belly for the past hour. They ended up frotting like two horny teenagers until Koujaku convinced Aoba enough that they were alone.

For now…

_~o~_

_“Ahn!”_

_“Aoba, shit.”_

_“Mmnh, ah, yes Koujaku!”_

In the darkness of his bedroom, Noiz blinked at the harsh, transparent glow of his computer screen. Aoba was right in view of the camera, his delicious butt poked up into the air. Noiz could imagine how supple would feel in the palms of his hands.

His eyes stayed trained to the computer screen, even as he reached out to the side and grabbed another slice of pizza from his most recent delivery order. He was glad he had planted one of his bunny cubes in Aoba’s coat pocket—it was easy to direct the allmate into the enemy’s bedroom from there. Now, they could see exactly what that old man was up to with Aoba.

Noiz’s eyes ran over the plump curve of Aoba’s bottom, the fantasy of being there and reaching down to squeeze it only thwarted by the presence of that older buffoon who would certainly not be keen on sharing. Noiz sighed, watching intently as the man spread Aoba’s cheeks and penetrated him for the second time this evening.

What a twist, Noiz thought, that the gas-mask weirdo had interrupted the couple’s first performance, leaving the third-party voyeur just as unsatisfied as his subjects. Their second round of sex started out desperate, fast—Noiz enjoyed the sound of Aoba’s clipped moans ringing out through the speakers into his own bedroom.

Aoba released a strand of breathy whimpers at Koujaku’s handling. Noiz smirked.

What they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them.


End file.
